


7 times their student walked in on something he shouldn't, and the 1 time he was welcome

by Koane (volleyball_crow)



Series: Be My Coach, Yuuri!, a series [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, One Shot, Short, Short One Shot, and forget about this until morning, i will now go to sleep, the trials and tribulations of the Katsuki-Nikiforov apprentice are many and varied, written at ungodly hours of the morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9796754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volleyball_crow/pseuds/Koane
Summary: Exactly what it says on the title. The continued adventures of Yuuri and Viktor's long suffering first student.





	

So. Viktor is wearing a wig. Long one, yup. And his old black, half see-through costume from Yuuri's Eros routine. Okay. And he's on Yuuri's lap. That... that is a thing that is happening. Right now.

Viktor barely pays him any mind, because clearly he has _plans_ , and apparently not even their student walking in on them is going to stop him. Yuuri's face has turned a rather fascinating shade of red and is frozen in horrified shock.

Their poor student, currently not breathing, slowly closes the study's door. And then he runs.

**

Here's the thing: that's not even the first time this kind of thing has happened.

After being taken under the wing of the all powerful deities of male figure skating/adopted by the youngest old married couple ever, he's had to get used to some unexpected aspects of it. Like the 'Interruptions'. Capital I there. He keeps... walking in on stuff. It's apparently not really something that can be avoided, only endured. He's made his peace with this. Really. He has.

And anyway, sometimes, it's not even really couple-stuff that he walks in on... not exactly.

"This feels kind of awkward for some reason," Phichit chirps from the top of the kitchen table, paint brush dripping blue paint, Viktor's halfway drawn crotch in front of him.

Yuuri, down on his knees on the kitchen floor and clearly almost done painting 'CONGRATULATIONS VITYA' over banner-Viktor's lovingly painted giant head, just covers his face with his hands.

"I can't imagine why," Yuuri's student says, before turning around and leaving the way he came. He can ask about flight schedules later.

**

Of course, a lot of the times, it _is_ couple-stuff. Like, for instance, he quickly learns late night extra skating sessions are a bad idea.

At this point, he's more or less gotten used to finding them in these situations, so he even tries to politely apologize for interrupting. He really does _try_.

Yuuri, still straddling Viktor on the ice and making no move to change that, doesn't even let him talk. He glares and points firmly at the door. "No. Nope. Absolutely not. No overworking, and no interrupting your coaches."

"Um..."

"We're busy, and the rink is occupied. I'm going to be embarrassed as hell tomorrow, but right now I don't care."

"Er, Yuuri..."

"Our rink now. Go home and sleep, you have a competition in three days."

"Right away, but, um. I think Viktor is turning blue."

"OH-- VIKTOR I'M SO SORRY--"

**

Another Tuesday morning, another morning training session at 5 in the morning because Yuuri Katsuki, against his very own night-owl nature, thinks sleeping in during the season is blasphemy. His mentor is already on the ice, doing laps, because _he's not human_ , while Viktor is nowhere to be seen yet--probably out getting more coffee or something.

...actually scratch that, he's right there in the locker room. Standing over Yuuri's bag. With... some piece of clothing in his hand? Is that-- wait, is that--

"You didn't see _anything_ ," Viktor hisses as he storms out the door, prize hastily stuffed in a pocket.

...what.

**

Seriously, is nowhere sacred? The ballet studio? Really? Not to mention...

"...what are you two even wearing?"

"OUT!"

**

Sometimes it's not something quite as R-18, but it's still pretty traumatizing anyway.

"It's not what you think!" Yuuri frantically assures him, trying to hide the Viktor figurine he just got in the mail behind his back.

**

Viktor, surrounded by English, Japanese, Russian, and French dictionaries, miles of red papersheets and crushed and balled up red papers, red and pink paper hearts, dozens of roses and what looks like yellow camellias, and a battalion of unlit candles, wailing while clinging to Makkachin. "All this, and it took so long, and she tells me in Japan they do CHOCOLATE?!"

"Er, Viktor, about my off-ice tra-"

"GO RUN."

"How--"

"JUST GO RUN. I'LL CALL YOU WHEN YOU CAN STOP."

"And when--"

"WHEN WE'VE BOTH WORKED THROUGH THIS, WHAT THE FUCK, JUST CHOCOLATE? IN _MARCH?_ "

**

Until eventually, his sense of timing and awful luck finally get it right for once.

At first he thinks he has, once again, walked in on something he'd _really really_ rather not see. 

"I just can't decide," Viktor tells him with absolutely no shame, still holding up the two giant (and admittedly rather nice) Katsuki Yuuri posters in plain view of his student as he ogles them openly. "Where do I put which poster? There's too many good options," he laments pitifully, like having two ~~delicious-looking~~ giant posters of his husband and the possibility of _not_ choosing the Absolutely Best Placement for them is a tragedy of unspeakable proportions.

Well, fanboying and assorted memorabilia is a business he's had quite a lot of experience in. At last, his expertise will be recognized. He has lived for this moment. "Well... if I may make some suggestions..."

Viktor turns to his student with shiny eyes.

-

"Viktor."

"Hmm."

"Why is there a poster of me on the ceiling above our bed."

"Isn't it _beautiful?_ "

**Author's Note:**

> **BONUS SCENE**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Sometimes, it's not even Viktor _or_ Yuuri.
> 
> "As agreed, Plisetsky," the pink-clothed triplet growls around the pencil she's holding in her mouth like a cigarette as she hands over a rolled-up plastic-y paper looking thing. The sunglasses of all three triplets glint threateningly in the faint early morning light starting to come through the Ice Castle's windows. "Highest quality," the triplet with the orange gloves sniffs haughtily with a smirk, crossing her arms.
> 
> What is even happening. 
> 
> "For what I fucking paid you, it _better_ be," the Ice Tiger of Russia snarls back.
> 
> Is this...? Smuggling...?
> 
> The three girls are far from tall enough to loom threateningly over Plisetsky. They don't seem to care. They do it anyway.
> 
> "What are you...?"
> 
> The heads of all four of the conspiring criminals whip to where he's standing by the door like sharks scenting blood. Ooooohh _fuuuuuuuuc-_


End file.
